


The Mere Exposure Effect

by enso_infinite



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, And Studying Science For Some Reason, Awkward Derek, Everyone Is in College, Fluff galore, Humour, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry For All the Dick Jokes, Stiles and Lydia and Kira Are Besties, There's A Vague Scene Where Stiles Wrestles a Duck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3655752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enso_infinite/pseuds/enso_infinite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles keeps ordering food from the same place because their delivery guy is hot like burning, and he just can't get enough. </p><p>Derek is that delivery guy who's totally oblivious until Stiles starts seducing him with dick jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mere Exposure Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my love, theleavesoflorien, for beta-reading this fic. You're the best.

**The Mere Exposure Effect**

**\---**

The third time Stiles orders delivery food from Hale’s Kitchen, a gorgeous girl shows up on his doorstep, all cute chubby cheeks and big chocolate brown eyes, and although he does appreciate the sight, he can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“Do they only hire supermodels at your place or what?” he mumbles absent-mindedly, handing the girl a ten-dollar bill.

“I don’t remember it was in the requirements,” the girl replies with a frown, like she was actually trying to remember whether hotness was on the list. “Unless you meant it as a compliment?” she adds a second later, her eyes widening in realization.

“No— I mean yeah, but, um,” Stiles sputters, scratching at the back of his head. “You’re very attractive, obviously, but I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything.”

“Relax, I was just messing with you,” the girl says with a chuckle, brushing a strand of sandy hair away from her face. “Based on your comment, I take it you’ve met Derek?”

“Derek?”

“Half eyebrows, half beard, makes a hell of a good grumpy cat impersonation?”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of Stiles’ throat. “Yeah, I guess that’s a pretty accurate description of him.”

She shoots him a quizzical look, tilting her head slightly. “Hey, are you the Curly Fries Guy?”

Stiles blinks at her, a little flummoxed. “What?”

“You’re that guy who always orders curly fries, extra crispy with no salt, after nine PM, yes?”

“I don’t _always_ —”

She raises a finger, interrupting him. “Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence—”

“Three times is a pattern,” Stiles completes for her. “Yeah, okay fine. I’m that guy.” He can’t help but grin at her. “I’m Stiles.”

“Malia,” she responds, returning his smile. She glances at her watch and winces. “Shoot, I gotta go. I still got three deliveries to make before the end of my shift.”

 _So his name is Derek_ , Stiles thinks as he closes the door with a smile.  

\---

“Hello, Derek,” Stiles says a few days later as he accepts the delivery bag from Derek’s hand.

“How do you know my name?” Derek asks with suspicion in his eyes, the colour of which Stiles is still trying to figure out. He finally settles for the shade of unattainable dreams just before sunset.  

“Your name tag,” Stiles lies, because he just realizes how stalkerish he must have sounded knowing Derek’s name without the guy ever telling him.

“I don’t have a name tag.”

Right. He doesn’t even have a uniform, for that matter, now that Stiles is paying closer attention to Derek’s clothes, unless sexy leather jackets and alluring harem pants are part of the standard work attire at Hale’s Kitchen.  

“Fine. Malia told me,” Stiles admits. He feels a little bad for throwing her under the bus like that, but he never did ask her for Derek’s name in the first place—even though he totally would’ve if she hadn’t offered it first.

“Why did my cousin—whatever she told you, it’s probably not true.”

“So it’s not twelve inches, then,” Stiles says, biting down a shit-eating grin.

“ _What_.”

“Your Sunday Special Sub Sandwich,” Stiles clarifies, his face the embodiment of innocence.

Derek blinks at him, his expression unreadable. “Right. No, that’d be preposterous. At the most eight inches when it’s well filled,” he says flatly, but the glint in his eyes makes Stiles’ heart stutter.

“See, I can’t tell if you’re serious or not,” Stiles says with a laugh.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out,” Derek replies, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Stiles nearly drops his food container. Fuck. How is he supposed to respond to that? But before he could say anything, Derek has already turned around and left.

\---

“You have to stop ordering curly fries,” Lydia tells him when he comes into the kitchen, without lifting her eyes from the biology paper she’s reading. “It’s clogging up your arteries, not to mention it’s a luxury you can’t afford three times a week, what with your broke-ass college student status and all.”

“She’s right, you know,” Kira adds around a spoonful of yoghurt. “How are you supposed to seduce your delivery guy if you might succumb to a heart attack at any time?”

“My seduction strategy might require some personal sacrifices, but it is foolproof despite what you’re trying to insinuate,” he replies as he takes a seat at the dining table where the girls are studying, and starts wolfing down his fries, making a point of ignoring the vaguely disgusted look that Lydia and Kira exchange.

“Stiles, your ‘seduction strategy’ consists of ordering the same thing as often as you can and hope for the best,” Lydia retorts, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow at him, and Stiles can actually hear the quotation marks in her voice.    

“Well, put that way, it does sound a little questionable, but it is actually a real time-proven technique to make people like you. It’s called the ‘Mere Exposure Effect,’ look it up.” He lifts a hand before Lydia can add anything. “And if you start arguing that social psych is not a ‘real science’ again, I’m gonna _ban_ you from our study group, I’m serious.”

“You _can’t_ ban me,” Lydia scoffs, rolling her eyes so hard she might fall off her chair. “I’m the only reason why you’re not failing Biochem yet.”

“The fact that you’re right doesn’t make me want to ban you less,” says Stiles stubbornly.

“Guys, let’s focus on the real issue, here,” Kira interrupts, waving her spoon in the air to catch their attention. “Stiles, the ‘Mere Exposure Effect’ has its limitations. You need to do more than just ‘expose’ yourself. Have you been taking dating advice from Scott again?”

“You can think whatever you want about Scott’s game, or lack thereof, but the dude is marrying the love of his life after graduation, so.”

“We all know that Allison is a beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure,” Kira says, and Lydia nods in agreement.

“Okay, that’s kind of true, but on behalf of Scott, I’m gonna say, very indignantly, ‘ _Hey_ ’,” Stiles responds.

“Lydia, any suggestions?” Kira asks.

“Actually, I might have one,” Lydia says pensively, and the gleam in her eyes sends a shiver of dread down Stiles’ spine.

\---

“Guys, this is not a good idea,” Stiles says as he pulls the front door and holds it open for Kira and Lydia to walk in.

After some cajoling that quickly took a threatening turn, Stiles has reluctantly agreed to forgo delivery service for once and drag his miserable carcass to where all the magic happens. Squeezed between a Christian dance studio and a strip club, Hale’s Kitchen is an honest to God retro diner with the mandatory checkered tiles, vintage red leather bar stools, and semi-sexist pin-up drawings on the walls.  There is even a freaking jukebox by the candy machine that’s playing what sounds like... German hip hop?

Stiles’ mind is completely blown. He never wants to leave this place, he decides as he takes a seat and keeps looking around in awe.

“Can you see him?” asks Kira, sliding into the booth across from Stiles.

“I told you it’d be very unlikely that we get to see him at all, since he’s a _delivery guy_ and not a waiter,” Stiles hisses. “God, I feel like such a giant stalker right now.”    

“Nothing you’ve never felt before, I am sure,” Lydia replies airily, pushing a strawberry blond curl behind her ear as she sits down next to Stiles.

He squints at the insinuation. “I might have been a little infatuated with the _idea_ of you when I was sixteen and didn’t know any better, but I never actually _stalked_ you, Miss Martin,” he protests, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right. You just kept showing up everywhere like a goddamn pop-up—wait. _No_.” Lydia stares at him, her expression halfway between annoyance and amusement.

“Oh my God, Stiles,” whispers Kira in disbelief. “You did _not_ pull a ‘Mere Exposure Effect’ on Lydia...”

“You both keep looking down on it, and yet here we are,” Stiles replies, extending his arms wide for emphasis.    

“Unbelievable,” says Lydia, shaking her head, while Kira is battling with a serious case of laughter-induced hiccups.

“Stiles! You’ve decided to come out of your cave,” says a familiar voice. Stiles looks over Kira's head and beams.

“Malia, hi. Yeah, a change of scenery can be good, sometimes, or so I’ve been told,” he tells her as she arrives with the menus. “These are my friends Lydia and Kira.”

“Heyy,” Kira mumbles, her hand knocking over the salt shaker on the table by accident.

“Hey to you too,” Malia says with a warm smile, and Stiles doesn’t miss the quick once-over she gives Kira. Lydia has noticed it too, judging by the way she appraises Malia with a calculating gleam in her eyes.

“I didn’t know you were working as a waitress too,” Stiles says.

“I was just filling in for Derek the other night,” Malia explains. “He had to study for an exam or something.”

“And Derek is...?” Lydia asks.

“My cousin. This diner belongs to our family, and thanks to nepotism, Derek and I get to work here when we're not at school.”

“A family business. Sweet,” Kira comments, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

Stiles clears his throat and leans back against his booth. “So, um, is Derek—”

“—working here today?” Malia supplies with a smirk. “Dude, you know that the job of a delivery person entails being on the road delivering stuff, right?”

“I told you,” Stiles hisses pointedly at his friends.

“But isn’t today your lucky day,” Malia adds, chuckling. “He’s on his lunch break and currently hanging out in the kitchen. Do you want me to go get him for you?”

“Um,” Stiles hesitates while Kira and Lydia both say in unison, “Yes!”

Malia leaves, promising to bring back their water and hopefully a not too grumpy Derek.

“Kira. _Kira_ ,” Stiles says, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinks at him, and then shakes her head quickly, as if trying to come back from whatever dreamland she’s wandered off to. “Sorry, I got, um, distracted.”

“We’ll talk about this new development later,” promises Lydia before turning her gaze on Stiles. “What are you going to say to Derek?”

“I don’t know? And I have no time to think about anything clever because, oh my God, he’s heading toward us. Do you think he’ll notice it if I slide under the table?”

But before Stiles can decide on his next course of action, Derek is already within hearing distance.

“What,” Derek says, standing a good three-foot away from their table, his tone so neutral Stiles doesn’t know whether he’s raised a question or made a statement.

“Um, I just realized, the other day when we talked, I never properly introduced myself to you,” Stiles sputters, raking a nervous hand through his hair. Now that their meeting surroundings have changed from Stiles’ familiar doorstep to Derek’s territory, he feels his confidence gushing out of his body like air from a punctured balloon, not that he had much to begin with when he first set foot into this place. “I’m Stiles.” He also introduces his friends to be polite while Derek just stares blankly at them. “We’re here to try out your Sunday Special Sub Sandwich that you’ve advertised so well,” Stiles adds with a tentative smile, feeling increasingly awkward and unwelcome.

That actually earns him a small, almost shy smile, from Derek. “Today’s Special is German sausage,” he informs them in all seriousness.

“Is that so?” Stiles replies, voice laced with amusement.

Derek just points his thumb at the chalkboard menu on the wall behind the bar, and as it turns out, he wasn’t lying.

“I’m sure it will satisfy your appetite, as I’ve heard you like it big,” he adds.

Stiles nearly chokes on his own saliva while Kira slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle a hysterical giggle. Even Lydia lifts both of her eyebrows in surprise.

“Sorry, I’ve got to get back to work,” Derek says and proceeds to walk away.

“Stiles, what was _that_?” Kira almost shrieks once Derek has disappeared into the kitchen, digging her fingers into Stiles’ forearm.

Stiles is still too stunned to say anything. Was Derek flirting with him or was he merely making fun of him? If only Derek didn't have the facial expression range of a toothbrush...

"He's socially inept and apparently into dick jokes. You're meant to be together," Lydia comments, shaking her head resignedly.

\---

Almost three whole weeks pass before Stiles, in a moment of weakness, picks up the phone and calls Hale's Kitchen—whose number he's got on speed dial, because he's pathetic like that.

"It's been a while," Derek comments when Stiles opens the door.

"Yeah, I missed you too, buddy" Stiles replies, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, his voice sounding way more nasal than ordinary.

"Are you alright?" Derek asks, his gaze sweeping over Stiles' fuzzy orange bathrobe.

"Yeah," Stiles says, clutching at his bathrobe a little self-consciously. "I always get a little sick after midterms."

"The mental stress and strain of studying for exams can weaken your immune system, making you more susceptible to illnesses," Derek explains, his voice carrying more emotion than Stiles has ever heard from him so far.

"I guess it makes sense. Are you studying health or something?"

"Immunology."

"No way! I'm getting a minor in Biology. Do you go to Berkley too? We must've had common classes at some point."

As it turns out, Derek goes to a different college and is graduating the following semester, a year before Stiles. They chat for a few more minutes, their conversation surprisingly easy and comfortable, before Derek has to get back to work, an almost regretful expression on his perfectly chiseled face.

Stiles goes to bed that night feeling light-headed and warm all over. He blames it on the cold syrup he drank earlier.

\---

The buzz of Stiles’ doorbell wakes him up the next morning. He’s about to yell at Scott to answer the door before he remembers that his roommate has spent the night at Allison’s again. With a groan, he drapes a blanket over his shoulders, because he can't remember where he left his bathrobe, and shambles off towards the entrance.

“Derek?” Stiles croaks, eyes widening in surprise as he opens the door.

“Here,” Derek says, practically shoving a thermos into Stiles’ hands.

“What’s this?” Stiles asks, dumbfounded.

“Chicken soup,” Derek answers, a flush on his cheeks, looking down at this shoes.

Stiles blinks at him, his mouth hanging slightly open. “For me?”

Derek lifts his eyes and stares at something over Stiles’ left shoulder. “No, the ghost behind you.”

“You can see her too?”

“Stiles.”

“Thanks, Derek. You shouldn’t have,” Stiles says, sincerely touched.

Derek just shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Do you wanna come in?” Stiles offers impulsively.

“And risk getting infected? No, thanks.”

“Ass,” Stiles says, because. _Rude_. But he can’t help grinning like an idiot, clutching the thermos against his chest as if Derek just offered him a piece of the moon.

“Eat it while it’s hot,” Derek recommends, his expression softening somewhat, making him look younger than his age.

“But the question is, can you really _eat_ soup? I mean, it’s a liquid. But then, ‘to drink soup’ sounds a little weird, and ‘to consume’ is usually followed by ‘the flesh of the innocent,’ so I don’t know.”

“Slow down on the meds, would you?”

“I haven’t taken anything today yet.”

“Get better soon, Stiles,” Derek says, a fondness in his voice that makes Stiles’ knees go weak.

Stiles may or may not let out an embarrassingly enamoured sigh as he watches Derek leave.

\---

 _You can do this_ , Stiles repeats in his head one more time before his pushes the doorbell button, anticipation making his hands all clammy.

"Heyy," he says as the door creaks open, revealing a wild Derek in his natural habitat, hair uncombed, a pair of thick rimmed glasses on his nose, an olive green henley stretching over his broad, muscular shoulders.

Stiles swallows. _Focus_.

"Stiles? What are you doing here?" Derek asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"I've got a special delivery for one Mr. Derek Hale," Stiles announces, managing to keep his voice even, handing Derek his thermos back.

"Oh. You didn't have to come all the way here. I could've picked it up next time you order something."

"I needed to get out of my apartment anyway," Stiles replies with a shrug. "The soup was delicious. Did you make it yourself?"

"I just followed my mom's recipe," Derek says, averting his eyes, an adorable shade of red on his cheeks . "You look better than you did last week," he adds, staring at Stiles' neck instead of his face.

"I feel much better too! Like just the other day, I wrestled a duck that had bit me in the ass as I was walking in the park, minding my own business, and let me tell you, that duck was something _fierce_ , but I got the upper-hand, I vanquished it. There's nothing like battling the forces of evil to make a man feel alive again."

Derek lets out a chortle, his face radiating happiness, and Stiles' stomach flutters in response.

"You did _not_ get bit in the ass by a duck," Derek says, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I swear it's true! I even have a scar, a _battle wound_ , Derek, right on my left butt cheek!"

"You're making this up."

"Wouldn't you like to find out?" Stiles asks, feeling bold, repeating verbatim what Derek told him almost a month ago.

"I'd love to," Derek says, grinning cheekily at Stiles before grabbing him by the waist and pulling him into his apartment, their mouths already slotted together before the door is even shut.

**\--- The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me [here](http://enso-infinite.tumblr.com/). I'd love to hear from you ^__^


End file.
